But man, though thus encouraging and at heart keenly appreciative, is watching her closely, and there can be no question that if he has to choose between the old-time woman of convention--the exquisite, picturesque doll of society--and a monster who revolts at sex, sneers at sentiment, and administers the affairs of life on a dull, utilitarian basis enlivened only by knowing, mundane humor, he will prefer the doll, or, if she be out of the question, he will fight the monster. It would be St. George and the dragon again! Long has the idea which the poet put into words, _Man's love is of man's life a thing apart, 'Tis woman's whole existence,_ been uttered with a sigh by our wives and mothers; yet with pride, too, and a secret joy in spite of the melancholy inflection. There are some women to-day who would throw off the yoke of this adage and enter the lists of life on the footing of a second-class man, proud of their swagger, and with the instincts of the wife and mother sternly repressed. Fortunately, to the woman of the alliance this new woman of democratic individuality is as abhorrent as she is to men. But it is not in her extreme type that she is as yet most dangerous, for admiration comes only by degrees. The danger lies in the failure to recognize the species in the bustling, chirping, metallic, superficial class of women which in some numbers, and with the wiry whirr of grasshoppers, infests the cities and towns of the republic to-day--women who have no reverence and no sentiment, no desire to learn for the sake of knowledge, but merely for ostentation--women who have not progressed as souls, but who have substituted coarseness for aspiration, and material "cuteness" for unsophisticated purity of thought and sentiment.